


I Know All Of Your Buttons (And You Love It)

by tattooeddevil



Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex, UST, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens when Eliot Spencer sets his sights on Sam Winchester. Sam doesn't mind, but is Sam really in it for Eliot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know All Of Your Buttons (And You Love It)

Eliot wasn’t entirely sure what had happened at the bank, but he’d gotten beat up by something he couldn’t even see, and Hardison’s hardware had crapped out - and it **never** crapped out. Parker had gotten blown sideways off the side of the building - and thank god for those harnesses and padding - and Nate and Sophie had gotten locked in the CEO’s office and had to be helped out via the air ducts. The whole job had gone wrong and they were just about to call it quits and come back the next day, when two men with guns and big canisters of _salt_ of all things had stormed into the lobby screaming for them to get down. They had dropped to the ground immediately, even before they knew if they were supposed to be afraid or relieved, and gunfire had blazed all around them. There had been yells of “Sammy, over there!” and “Dean, duck!” and ear-piercing wails and cries that sounded like nothing he had ever heard. And then it had gone quiet all of a sudden. Eliot was the first to lift his head and observe the wreckage around them, the two strange men standing in the midst of it and looking sheepish.

“We might want to get out of here before the cops come. You don’t look like you should be here anymore than we do.”

The shorter guy had made sense and they had all hurried out of the building and around a few corners to where they had parked the car. The two men - Sammy and Dean - were nowhere to be seen and for a second Eliot had wondered what the hell had happened. Sophie had ushered them all into the cars though, police sirens getting closer with every passing second, and Nate had driven them back to HQ. They’d all sat around, staring at each other with wide eyes and confused looks, until Parker had broken the shocked silence.

“Aliens. The aliens did it.”

Somehow it had seemed the best explanation.

The next day, things weren’t any clearer to Eliot, and he decided to track down the guys and find out what the hell had happened. And they still needed to finish the job. He made his way to the restaurant in the brewery to work in the kitchen for a few hours; that never failed to get his head straight and his focus on target. The place was packed with the lunchtime rush and the sous chef was happy to see him. He clapped Eliot on the back in greeting and handed him a small stack of notes.

“Orders, get cooking.”

The hours flew by quickly and by four pm, Eliot had a plan and a starting point. When the second sous chef showed up fifteen minutes later for the dinner rush, he excused himself and made his way to the back, to Leverage HQ. He needed a little help from Hardison, and the team needed to touch base on how to finish the job from last night. Sophie and Nate were already present, and they informed him that Hardison and Parker would arrive in about half an hour.

“Alright. I’m gonna grab some coffee, you want something?”

Nate and Sophie both declined and Eliot made his way back to the restaurant. His mind wandered back to the two men that had blasted into the bank yesterday, and for the umpteenth time he wondered who the hell they were and how he was going to find them. It turned out, he didn’t need to look at all.

“I’ll have the salmon salad and a glass of orange juice, please.”

Eliot recognized that voice.

_Dean, duck!_

“Sure thing. And what can I get you?”

“A beer and a burger, please.”

_Sammy, over there!_

The two men were occupying the table at the window and, for a second, Eliot wondered if Parker’s microphone was still hanging above it so he could tune in to their conversation. He dismissed the thought - Parker was too smart to leave any trace of the job behind, or else Nate would have reminded her not too subtly - and settled in at the bar to watch the two men from a distance. The shorter one, the one that had shooed them out of the bank, was fiddling with his phone, while the other one was typing away at his laptop. From this far away, Eliot couldn’t hear what was said, but the atmosphere seemed casual. Nothing betrayed the fact that they had stormed a bank last night armed with guns and salt. Freaking **salt**.

He observed the two guys - Sammy and Dean - from his spot at the bar. Dean, the shorter one, was sitting with his back half to the window so he could see both the front door and the whole inside of the bar in a single glance while still seeing what’s going on outside. He was doing something with his phone, but Eliot could see him checking out their surroundings every twenty second or so. His posture was alert, but not tense; Eliot was pretty sure Dean was about ready for anything threatening coming his way. His leather jacket looked worn in, as did his boots, and Eliot again wondered who the hell these guys were. Dean didn’t look the type to go around chasing aliens - or whatever weird thing that had been - but, then again, most of the people they take down didn’t look like greedy bastards from the outside either.

Sammy looked more relaxed. He wasn’t too worried about his surroundings; focused on his computer, he seemed to trust Dean in watching out for him. They were either partners, lovers or brothers. Maybe all three. But then Eliot caught the leering grin Dean shot a girl at the next table and he dismissed the lovers option. Although, the way Sammy looked at Dean almost disapprovingly but smoothed his face out when Dean looked back, told Eliot one of them wasn’t completely professional about their relationship. When Dean called him ‘Sammy’ again and Sammy replied ‘It’s Sam’ with an eye roll, Eliot settled on brothers who had been working together for years, living in each other’s pockets. Eliot knew what it was like to be around the same group of men in very closed quarters for a long time, he knew how badly feelings could get messed up; incest hadn’t been as out there as it would have seemed.

Eliot observed them eat together until Hardison came to get him. The briefing was short; their cover hadn’t been blown and they would simply attempt the break-in again that night. If they were lucky, they’d be in and out in half an hour. They could be home by nine pm.

“But what if the aliens show up again?”

Eliot dropped his head in his hands with a sigh. Sometimes Parker gave him headaches. Hardison was more subtle.

“Parker, babe, there’s no such thing as aliens.”

Eliot could practically hear Parker gearing up for the discussion he knew he needed to be as far away from as possible, so he quickly looked up and blurted out, “Okay, so let’s go. The sooner, the better, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, he was up and out of the room in seconds, trusting his teammates would follow. Going by the look Nate sent him, he had just saved them all a headache. He took the exit through the bar instead of the back door, still intrigued with the two brothers who saved their hides the night before, but they were gone. He’d have to enlist Hardison’s help after all, he was going to find out who they were and what their story was, no matter how.

They’d been right, the job went off without a hitch and they were back at the brewery three minutes to nine. Nate and Sophie went out for a late dinner and Hardison started up a video game on the big screens, but Eliot left it to him and Parker. He was feeling a little restless, the two men and their weird _thing_ still occupying his thoughts. Hardison hadn’t started his search yet so he didn’t have anything to go on from that end. He decided to grab a beer in the bar, maybe find someone to take home for the night. He hadn’t gotten laid in forever and maybe it would take his mind off things.

But then the first thing he ran into when entering the bar was the taller one of the two men. Sam. Sam merely glanced at him before sidestepping him and making a beeline for the bar. Eliot followed, searching the bar for Dean, but he wasn’t there. He heard Sam ask for a double whiskey neat and watched him knock it back in one go and ordering a new one. Eliot settled himself on the barstool next to where Sam was standing, and gestured at the bartender for the same thing.

“They’re on me.”

Sam turned to him, a frown between his eyes and thin lips set in an angry straight line. Eliot saw the moment Sam recognized him. Sam softened a little, the frown lessening and his tense stance relaxing minutely. The underlying anger never left though, but Eliot knew it wasn’t directed at him. Despite the fact that Dean looked like the one with the flying fists and short temper, Sam was big enough - both tall and muscular - to take out Eliot easily. If Eliot hadn’t been trained in at least 6 different types of fighting techniques. Nah, nothing to be afraid of.

“You’re one of the guys from last night.”

Eliot chuckled.

“Don’t let the ladies hear you call them men. They’re sensitive like that.”

Sam blushed a little and it took Eliot by surprise. It made Sam look young, bashful, and completely unlike the guy with a grudge against the world like he’d seemed ten seconds earlier. Sam rubbed the back of his neck with a hand and grinned sheepishly, and Eliot felt an ember of warmth start to coil in his groin. Eliot had never been a discriminating kind of guy, and that went for sex as well. Sam was cute, big, and hot; just what Eliot was looking for.

“Uhm, yeah, sorry. I didn’t-”

Eliot cut him off by holding out the fresh drink and clinked his own glass against Sam’s when Sam took it.

“Cheers. To a job well done. I guess.”

Eliot raised a questioning eyebrow, sure that Sam would recognize an opening when it was thrown his way so obviously, but Sam didn’t take it. He simply took a swig from his drink and set himself on the barstool next to Eliot. For a second, Eliot mourned the loss of the view of Sam’s tall body stretching out for miles, but then Sam’s thigh brushed his under the bar. The ember grew into a couple of embers and Eliot felt his cock slowly fill out and harden. Yeah, Sam was going home with him. Even if he didn’t want to tell Eliot who the hell he was.

“So, what’s got you so worked up you’re chugging down whiskey like it’s going out of style?”

The frown grew back on Sam’s face and Eliot kicked himself for asking what was apparently a bad question.

“The job well done, actually. Better said, asshole brothers who take off after a job well done to screw a receptionist as a celebration when we should really be two states over by now.”

Eliot wanted to smile at the frustrated rant, but it would probably not be appreciated by Sam. Instead, he took a sip from his drink and let the silence do the talking. It didn’t take long for Sam to crack and spill more.

“I mean, seriously, that job last night? Run of the mill, easy as breathing, no need for any excessive celebrations. We should have taken off hours ago, but no, Casanova needs more time. Bastard always does this. We got a job to do, people to save, but he goes off and screws skeevy women, and probably some men too.”

Not entirely sure if he should ask about the job and the saving people thing, Eliot went for the third option.

“Women and men, huh? Your brother's an equal opportunities kind of guy?”

Sam scoffed, but Eliot saw something tighten in his jaw. Something angry, like before, something Eliot knew all too well. Something he could work to his advantage.

“Except when it comes to family?”

The implication was clear, if even it wasn’t put into so many words. Sam might not know how Eliot knew about the family ties, but he was a smart guy, he’d put it together fast enough. Sam swirled to face Eliot so fast, Eliot had his fists up in a defensive pose before he realized he’d done it. Sam glanced at them and chuckled darkly.

“Don’t you think I should be the one to punch you?”

Eliot shrugged, but didn’t lower his fists. He might still get clogged in the head for pushing so hard. Even if Sam thought he’d only meant to insult Dean; they seemed close enough to automatically defend each other’s honor.

“Only if it’s not true.”

That seemed to deflate Sam a little, and Eliot made a show of relaxing back on his barstool. It took a few moments, but then Sam did the same and silence wrapped around them. Eliot could feel the tension still rolling off Sam, but it was more confused than angry tension and it was all focused on Eliot, not his brother. Point for Eliot.

“So, what were you doing in that building yesterday?”

Safer territory, but not where Eliot wanted to go.

“Not waiting for aliens, that’s for sure.”

Sam turned back to him and raised a slightly amused eyebrow.

“Aliens?”

“Hey, if you're not gonna tell me what you were doing there, then neither am I.”

Sam grinned.

“Fair enough.”

Another point for Eliot. He ordered two more drinks and waited for the bartender to set them down before turning his body towards Sam and putting a foot on the step of Sam’s barstool. He leaned sideways, resting his weight on his right elbow on the bar while spreading his legs wide so his thighs were on either side of Sam’s stool. His right knee was digging into Sam’s thigh, but Sam didn’t move away. Instead, he turned on his barstool and mirrored Eliot’s pose. His leg slid in between Eliot’s to rest his foot on Eliot’s stool, his legs falling open wide. As blatant as his own move was - there was no mistaking the bulge in his jeans -, Sam copying him with a determined look on his face was even more obvious and challenging. And Eliot never backed down from challenges. He also couldn’t help but push a little again. Sue him, he had a weak spot for angry, hot men.

“Does your brother know you’re trying to pick me up, Sammy?”

Rage flashed through Sam’s eyes, but it settled as hunger. Whatever had gone through Sam’s head had landed on “I don’t care” or “let’s stick it to Dean” and both were fine with Eliot. Whenever he sought out men, he didn’t want sweet and cuddly; he wanted rough, fast and hot. Judging by the look in Sam’s eyes, he was on board with that plan.

“Fuck Dean, he ain’t here, is he?”

“Do you want him to be?”

Sam’s eyes flashed again and Eliot could practically see Sam’s entire body tensing up. The anger was just below the surface again and Eliot loved it. His cock loved it, still thick and heavy in his jeans, waiting to be satisfied. Eliot knew he had to get Sam somewhere semi-private before either Dean came back or he lost patience and jumped Sam right there. The dark, hungry eyes, the muscles bulging under his clothing, the line of his cock through his jeans. Yeah, Sam was riled up, angry, and _this-close_ to snapping.

Eliot slid off his barstool and pressed his hips into Sam’s. Sam huffed out a breath at the contact, and wrapped one hand around Eliot’s wrist in a vice-like grip. Eliot bit back a whimper at the contact; Sam was strong, and Eliot hoped he’d use some of it on him later. Right now, he needed to move things along. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Sam’s ear to whisper gruffly, “You can pretend I’m Dean.”

Sam’s hand tightened painfully around Eliot’s wrist and, in a flash, Sam was up from his barstool, forcing Eliot to stumble back and getting in his face. His voice was low and dark, closer to a growl than the English language.

“Don’t. Not another word about Dean or I’ll shut you up and you’re not gonna like it.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

This time, Sam did growl. He then proceeded to tug Eliot towards the door forcefully, and Eliot had the presence of mind to make an “I’m okay” sign to one of the camera’s for Hardison before lust clouded his brain and disabled any kind of reasonable thinking. Sam manhandling him across the bar and out of the door was the hottest thing he’d experienced in a long time, and exactly what he was hoping and looking for. It was easy to set aside his instincts for a night and just let himself go with Sam. For Sam.

“Got a place we can go?”

Sam plastered up against his back and fused his mouth to Eliot’s neck to suck on it. Hard. Eliot groaned and let his head fall to the side to accommodate Sam. The burning pain traveled straight down to his cock and Eliot could feel it pulsing in his jeans. He nodded a yes, before starting to move towards the alley leading to the back of the brewery, they’d have a little bit of privacy there. When Sam squeezed his wrist painfully again, he groaned and tore himself away from Sam’s mouth.

“Come on, show me what you got.”

But just as he was about to push Sam up against the wall in the darkest corner of the alley he could find, Sam’s phone started ringing. Sam fished out the phone from his pocket and stiffened, and Eliot immediately knew who it was.

“Dean?”

Sam nodded, never taking his eyes off of the still ringing phone. Eliot could feel the moment fade away, his hunger dying down and he knew this was it. Sam was gonna go back to Dean and pine after him, and Eliot would be left to find someone else not nearly as good as Sam promised to be.

Color him surprised when Sam answered the phone, but also shoved him up against the wall roughly so he couldn’t go anywhere.

“What?”

Sam pushed his hips against Eliot’s and Eliot could feel his hard cock through both their jeans. Still on board then, good. Sam’s voice was cold, but his eyes were dark with anger and lust, and his touch possessive.

“No, I’m busy. None of your business. No, you made me sit here with my thumb up my ass for hours, now you can wait for me. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Sam flipped the phone shut and tossed it to the ground behind him.

“You heard, we’ve got an hour.”

The phone rang just as Eliot opened his mouth to reply; when Eliot glanced at it, Sam slammed him into the wall by his shoulders to get his attention.

“You wanna argue with my brother or get laid?”

Eliot smirked and raised an eyebrow in answer. In a flash, he had Sam pinned to the wall and his tongue down Sam’s throat. There was nothing soft, caring or romantic about it; this was lust, desire, and want and Eliot was finally gonna get what he needed. They grappled for control, pushing each other up against walls and garbage bins and doors, hands roughly pulling on clothes, teeth biting everything they can latch on to. It was desperate, horny and incredibly hot, and Eliot couldn’t get enough.

Sam had Eliot pinned to the wall face first, when he stopped all movement. Eliot could still feel his breath against his neck, but there suddenly was hesitance in the air. Eliot wouldn’t have any of it, though, and he glanced at Sam over his shoulder, “What’s the matter? Second thoughts? Afraid big bro will find out?”

That seemed to jar something in Sam and his face darkened. He pushed Eliot’s face against the bricks with his huge hand and growled in his ear, “Shut the fuck up, or I’ll make you.”

The brick cut into Eliot’s face harshly, but it only amped up his arousal. God, he loved being manhandled around. He snorted mockingly, “Yeah? How?”

His jeans were unceremoniously ripped open in answer, Sam’s voice nothing more than a hoarse, gravelly growl, “I’m gonna shove my dick in your mouth so deep, you’re gonna choke on it, and then I’m gonna gag you and fuck you stupid. How’s that sound?”

Sam’s words ripped a groan from Eliot’s throat, and he wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees right then and there and do exactly what Sam told him. But no, there was one thing he would love doing more: Let Sam make him do it.

“Do it. Come on, make me.”

Sam huffed out a strangled laugh, “Bossy,” before shoving a hand inside Eliot’s jeans and boxers to curl around his cock. Eliot’s hips bucked into Sam’s hand and Sam chuckled again. He took his hand back and continued to pull Eliot’s jeans and underwear down his hips until they pooled around his ankles. Sam roughly turned Eliot around by his shoulders and forced him to his knees in the dirt. Sam gripped Eliot by the hair, so tight Eliot felt it stinging all the way down to his cock, while his other hand fumbled to get his own jeans open and his cock out and in Eliot’s face. Sam pushed Eliot’s head forward, “Suck me,” and Eliot couldn’t help but obediently opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around Sam’s cock.

Sam immediately thrust his hips forward, shoving his cock deep into Eliot’s throat as threatened - promised -, making Eliot’s eyes water and his cock twitch. It should have been uncomfortable, yet it was everything but; it was heavy, heady, and so incredibly good Eliot’s head spun with it. He had trouble keeping up with Sam’s pace, unable to properly suck and lick, but Sam didn’t seem to mind he was nothing more than just a hole to fuck. Quite the contrary; Sam was quickly losing control over himself, fucking Eliot’s mouth faster and faster, his eyes screwed shut and his fingers tight in Eliot’s hair.

Just as Eliot’s hand came up to curl around his cock, Sam pulled out with a gasp and pushed Eliot away hard. Eliot fell back against the wall, arms flailing out to catch himself before he hit his head. Sam looked down at him from under his bangs, his face unreadable, and Eliot couldn’t help but try and get a reaction.

“Is that all you got? I thought you were gonna shut me up?”

A flash of something - anger? - crossed over Sam’s face and Eliot had about two seconds to be smug about getting a rise out of him before he was hauled to his feet and slammed into a garbage bin face first. One of Sam’s palms was pressing his face against the bin, while the other reached around and grasped his cock tightly. Sam chuckled in his ear darkly, “You like it rough, huh? Mouthy fucker,” and tugged on his cock a few times to make Eliot’s knees buckle.

For the first time that evening, Eliot had trouble getting words out. Sam was strong, so incredibly, deliciously strong, and Eliot shuddered with pleasure of finally being on the receiving end of it. Sam’s huge hand let go of his cock to grip his butt cheek and squeeze it hard before his fingers dug in his crack and found his hole. Without preamble, a blunt, dry finger was thrust up inside of him and the air was punched from Eliot’s lungs. It was painful and it burnt, but at the same time it was exactly what Eliot needed. He pushed back and it earned him another dark chuckle from Sam.

“Eager little bitch. You want me to fuck you? Shove my cock up that tight hole of yours?”

He could barely nod, face still pressed against the side of the garbage bin with Sam’s hand pushing him down.

“Yeah, do it. Come on, do it!”

Sam slammed Eliot’s face against the bin one last time and lowered his jeans to mid-thigh with his other hand. Sam’s finger disappeared from his body only to be replaced by two slick ones a few seconds later. Eliot huffed out a laugh, “Carrying lube around like a good boy scout?” To his surprise, Sam laughed too; all traces of anger suddenly gone, if still a little wry.

“You have no idea.”

Eliot didn’t know what had changed, but Sam’s touch became less punishing and more eager, and the atmosphere shifted from almost challenging to lustful and wanting. It made Eliot relax enough to let Sam’s fingers slip in deeper and welcome the stretch. Sam immediately sought out his prostate, and Eliot moaned when the sensation pulsed through his body. He needed things to move along, now, or he’d shoot his load completely untouched just from anticipation and sensation. He wiggled his ass and clenched around Sam’s fingers a few times.

“Come on man, get on with it.”

Sam ripped his fingers out with a growl, “Impatient much?”, but Eliot felt the blunt tip of his latex covered - seriously, boy scout - cock pressing against his hole seconds later. He pressed back as best as he could with his face still smashed against the dumpster, trying to force Sam in. He closed his eyes, needing to feel every inch of Sam filling him up, and bit his lip when Sam thrust forward and in. Sam didn’t give him any time to adjust; he just thrust forward a few times until he was balls-deep in Eliot’s ass. He immediately set a punishing pace, uncaring if Eliot was ready or not. Sam’s hand lifted from his face and wrapped tightly around his hip instead. Eliot could feel the fingertips digging into his flesh and he hoped for bruises; bruises he could press just to feel the sting travel through his nerves for days to come.

Sam’s other hand came around and wrapped itself around Eliot’s cock. It was a shock, and immediately Eliot felt his entire body locking up, jumping too close to the edge. He jerked and slammed a hand on the dumpster hard, clenching his teeth together in an attempt to stop himself from tipping over. He wanted it to last. Sam chuckled behind him, sounding a little breathless himself, “Gonna come already, huh? Go on, come for me,” but Eliot shook his head.

“No. Not. Gonna. Come.”

Eliot had to bite the inside of his cheek and recite pie backwards three times - damn Hardison for teaching him that - but he managed calm himself down to a manageable degree. Sam was still determined to get him to break as fast as he could though, slamming his hips against Eliot’s so fast Eliot had a hard time in meeting his thrusts, and jerking Eliot’s cock so deliciously good, Eliot couldn’t catch his breath. With his eyes closed, he could forget about being in a back alley getting fucked against a dumpster by a guy who really wanted to fuck his brother, and just focus on the fingers bruising his hips, the hot cock deep in his ass, and the hard body crowding him in. It was heady and hot and rough and exactly what Eliot was looking for.

“Harder, come on, fuck me harder.”

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. Sam huffed out a breath and, instead of complying, he pulled out and spun Eliot around. Eliot was startled into opening his eyes and looking at Sam. Sam’s face was drawn, not at all the pleasure Eliot was expecting. His eyes were dark, his chest heaving, his hands slightly trembling. He painted a picture of a man tormented, almost, and Eliot didn’t know what to do. Sam made it easy on him, though. He grabbed both Eliot’s ass cheeks in his hands and lifted Eliot clear off the ground without warning. Eliot gasped with the sudden display of power, and clung onto Sam’s shoulders for balance. Sam slid his cock back inside Eliot and leaned in to growl in Eliot’s ear, “Give it up, man, I’m in charge now. I’m calling the shots here.”

Eliot shook his head, not at all ready to just roll over and do what Sam said, and gasped, “Make me.” He buried his fingers in Sam’s shaggy hair and pulled hard, crushing his mouth against Sam’s for the first time they started this. Sam’s tongue fought his, battling for dominance, neither of them winning. Sam was thrusting in and out of him at a brutal pace, his hands squeezing his ass painfully, but it only aroused Eliot even more. He couldn’t do much but hang on and let Sam use him, but that was alright with him. Sam slammed into him, manhandling his body the way he wanted it and fucking Eliot deep and hard.

Eliot could feel himself hurtling closer to the edge again, with Sam buried deep inside of him and his fingers leaving painfully throbbing bruises on his ass. His back was slammed into the garbage bin with every thrust and his muscles protested the position, but Eliot couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Every little thing just added to the pleasure and he couldn’t get enough. When Sam’s breathing changed to something shallow and labored, he dropped one hand to his cock and started to jerk himself off in time with Sam’s thrusts. He got a handful of tugs in before he felt his balls draw up almost painfully, and he spilled over his hand with a loud groan.

Sam sucked in a deep breath when Eliot came and stilled completely for a few seconds before shooting his load into the condom with a long moan. Eliot was sure Sam’s fingers were gonna leave prints for days to come with the way he squeezed so hard, and when Sam bit down on his neck to muffle his groan, he felt Sam’s teeth digging into the skin. His cock twitched with the pain, and Eliot huffed with amusement at his own body. Apparently, he had a thing for biting too.

Sam lowered him to the ground and let himself slip from Eliot’s body with a loud pop. He threw the condom away, pulled up his jeans, and ran a hand through his hair a few times, leaving Eliot to get himself presentable too. Just as Eliot was about to ask Sam to get another drink before he took off, Sam’s phone started ringing from its place on the ground a few feet away. Sam frowned at it before picking it up with a sigh.

“What? The brewery. Doesn’t matter, just come and pick me up. Fine. Fine. I said fine!”

He hung up and glanced at Eliot.

“Dean?”

“Yeah. Gotta go.”

Eliot nodded. Now that the immediate urge had been satisfied, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to ask, wanted to know more, but it seemed Sam wanted to talk about it. He didn’t move away, but fidgeted in place a little, seemingly hoping that Eliot would break the silence. Eliot decided to keep it to a safer subject.

“So you always carry around lube and condoms?”

Sam grinned sheepishly and Eliot was reminded of the bashful demeanor he had when he had thought he had called Eliot’s female friends men. It warred with the image of the angry, sullen, forceful man that had just fucked Eliot to within an inch of his life. It confused Eliot and, once again, he wondered who the hell Sam really was.

“Can’t be too prepared in my line of job. And I stole the lube and condoms from Dean, thought he wouldn’t go out and fuck that girl if he didn’t have any supplies.”

There were so many questions coming from that answer, but Eliot never got the time to voice any of them. Sam’s phone rang again, Dean was waiting out front. Sam looked at Eliot with a small, apologetic smile.

“Sorry if I was too rough, I kind of got carried away a little.”

Eliot snorted.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I liked it.”

They exchanged a heated look before Sam turned away and headed to the street. Eliot didn’t follow, he just watched Sam go while question after question raced through his head. Sam looked back at him over his shoulder, “I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Eliot.”

Sam nodded with a wry smile.

“It was nice to meet you Eliot. Take care.”

When Sam was gone and the rumble of the car had died down, Eliot headed inside to see Hardison. They had information to dig up. Starting with the fake driver’s license he lifted from Sam’s back pocket.


End file.
